


Behind That Locked Door

by weak4dweekes



Category: George Harrison (Musician), The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Hinduism, India, LGBTQ Themes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:55:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weak4dweekes/pseuds/weak4dweekes
Summary: Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with a time on their wrist, a time indicating when they will meet their soulmate. The government; fate, puts people together for a reason... George Harrison meets his soulmate but he does not love her. He's in love with someone else and must keep his love locked away. He can not throw off the balance of the world. What will happen to him when he gets caught...?





	1. Chapter 1

1967

The cool air from the night sky was crisp against his face. His shoulder length dark brown hair was being blown about in the wind, but it wasn't really a mess. It was calm. He drew his cigarette between his lips, taking a slow drag from it, pursing his lips around it. He was pale this evening, as well as had a slight 5 o'clock shaddow coming in. The week had been slow and right now he was trying to get his head cleared.

The grass in his back yard was a dark green, it was almost dead. Almost ready to turn brown and then to dust. It was Fall now. The middle of it. There was a slight chill making the hair on his arms not sit evenly, and goosebumps to creep up on his neck and shoulders. He was alone tonight and he wouldn't have had it any other way .

He brought out his guitar and his slender fingers worked along the strings. This was perfect, but something was off. Something very small and was subconciously bothering him but he couldn't quite tell what it was. He finally pushed the butt of his cigarette into the dense dirt and stomped on it like he hated it. They would be the death of him but he didn't care at this point in time.

He was enjoying his alone time until he heard a knock on the door.  He turned around and saw Paul standing in the far doorway looking upset. The dim lighting making him look sinister, but he knew it was just Paul. "I'm over 'ere!" He called out and strummed the G Chord on his guitar.

Paul jumped and tugged on the ends of his sweater as he walked over; "got any extra smokes? what are you doing outside? It's dark ya wanker."

George got up, holding the neck of his guitar; he went and opened the door and let himself in, but not Paul.  Not yet. "Why did you come to me house?"

Paul shrugged. "I needed a place to stay, came to my best mate. Me and Linda got to fighting and John doesn't want me around. Can I stay?"

"No, eventhough... I'm tired... Bored. Sick of yer games. All you do is bicker with John so I left practice early and none of you noticed! not even Ringo." He rolled his eyes and set his guitar down. "Make things right with Linda. Don't come to me with yer problems it's unwise." George stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, looking at Paul, watching how the taller boy was swaying on his feet and biting at his lip. "Well? Don't just stand there. Go on. Get on home and make it up to your wife. I want to get my pajamas on and sleep."

Paul was pleasantly suprised that George had such an attitude thid evening. "You're such a nice bloke in the daylight. I wander how the fans would react," he teased.

"What they don't know wouldn't hurt them... Lock the door on your way out." He went down the narrow, beige colored hallway, and slept in his squeaky queen sized bed alone. Paul left as well, disappointed because his trip to George's house was pointless.

George had a bad day. His best friend hadn't given him any positive feedback whatsoever, he was completely ignored by all of the boys. Suddenly he felt so alone. Pattie was gone now too... He didn't miss her personality as much as he missed her comany. The warmth of sleeping beside someone.

He rested his mop of hair on the pillow and curled his legs into his torso. He couldn't get comfortable. He sat up and fluffed his pillow, stretching his legs and trying to get into a different position. He huffed and itched at his chin. "I need to bloody shave," he muttered.

He couldn't sleep so he got up, humming. around 4 in the morning he decided to shave his face and work out a little tune that was in his brain. That, he decided is why he couldn't sleep, he had lyrics floating in his head. He tapped his foot on the tile floor and started strumming. He wanted the boys to hear this song he was working on because he was so proud of it. It was really meaningful to him... He didn't realize that the other 3 wouldn't want to sing about Hinduism... He kept writing anyways.

"My sweet Lord  
Mm, my Lord  
Mm, my Lord  
I really want to see you  
Really want to be with you  
Really want to see you, Lord  
But it takes so long, my Lord..."

He presented it to the guys and Ringo atleast tried. A solid steady drum beat. Paul half-assed the bass. John mumbled instead of singing. It really made George mad. He was so upset that they didn't like it. Distraught and angry. He liked his own writing and the boys weren't letting him grow as an artist.

"The song just doesn't fit the Beatles image, Georgie." John explained. "It's too outgoing."

George nodded, not even going to bother to react to it. But John kept talking.

"Too far fetched. No-one is going to like it. They'll think we are crazy. Hold me accountable for my bigger than Jesus comments. There will be threats and it will be your fault."

George actually scowled at that. He was the quiet beatle. He didn't fight back, but Johns argument was invalid.  "You're the one that said the Jesus stuff, not me! It's on you! What about the sing Rocky Racoon? Fuckin' hated it. But you didn't care. Your boyfriend wrote it. You only let him record it because hes shagging ya! But this is something I am passionate about! It's unfair Lennon. You don't let me grow."

Before John could retaliate, Ringo butted in. "Calm down Georgie. It's not worth the stress." He laid his gentle, calloused hand on his best friends shoulder.

George pushed his hand away. "It is worth it! It's important to me!"

"What's got his panties in a twist? He still sour about Pattie?" Paul whispered to John, but a little too loud.

George growled. "I need a break. Screw it. I'm going to India."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He broke out his sitar when he found a nice spot in the grass. He was in Rishikesh and was planning on visiting Maharishi later that day and Ravi Shankar the next. The sun was beating down on him, making his skin oily. He had an hour or two before he had to go to the temple. He had lately been very into the spiritualism of Hindus. He felt so at peace believing in Krishna, and gardening, and strumming the sitar. He was a good sitar player but a great guitarist, he wanted to be great at both. He tried very hard. He chatted with Ravi for a while before packing up.

He headed out for the temple, trying to ignore all of the press. He had been really stressed lately. Pattie cheated on him, the boys paid him no mind. He wanted to write his own songs. He wanted to find love that was not to be soiled or tampered with.  He had so much boiled up anger. He took a deep breath as he stepped into the Maharishi temple and every bad thought left. His body felt cleansed and he felt at home.

" _Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare Mahadev_  
_Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare_  
_Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare_  
_Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva_  
_Hare Hare Hare Hare Mahadeva_  
_Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva_  
_Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva_  
_Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare_  
_Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare_  
_Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva_  
_Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva"_

That evening he went back to where he would be staying that week, he walked in the door and he smelled blossoms, he couldn't tell which flower exactly, but it was sweet. But then it vanished with the wind. He wanted to get that scent back.

It was a run down shack that he was going to stay in. it was the "inn for lovers" or "प्रेमियों के लिए सराय" and pronounced as "premiyon ke lie saraay." He knew he was too fab for this as the mob calls him, but he wanted to live a simple life here, this week. He got a room with a glass roof and a garden, perfect for sitar acoustics, according to Ravi. And, since this place was so simple and hidden, the fans couldn't overwhelm him.

There was a small t.v. in there that he decided to turn on, but the second something Beatle related came on he turned the box off. He went to read a book and then work on some songs of his own. A song called 'All Things Must Pass' was in the works today. He knew the other beatles would never let him record it, but he wanted to write on his own anyways, despite them. He needed to break down his own creative blockades and let his mind be free. He stayed in the room for hours trying to perfect it.

Olivia Arias, well now Olivia Cruiz was in India for a month, visiting the temples and the southern tropic side. She and her new husband were on their honeymoon there, taking tours and exploring together. They found deep romance at night. The air was so humid and they both just felt so at peace with their lives and world. Today was their third day and they had the rest of the month. Currently Olivia was curled up against her husband, Marcos, with one of her gentle hands resting on his chest. They were in a really cheap inn for the month while they explored this part of the world. The inn was small. It was a few shacks put together by hallways. There were only 6 or 7 rooms. Olivia and Marcos were soulmates and she was very happy with him.

She sat up from where she was cuddling him and ran a hand through her hair. She leaned over to kiss his lips gently and smiled to herself when he stayed sleep. She wrote a note down that she was going to get some air and walk around in the gardens for a few minutes. The place they were staying at was little and cheap but absolutely beautiful. The different rooms were formed in a circle and all had a door leading to a garden. It was a big garden that was surrounded by the rooms. There were religious statues in the middle as well as a little pool of water. She sat down on one of the benches and looked at the butterfly that had just landed on a flower. It was purple and light blue. She smiled and watched it, as well as breathed in the fresh, dewy, morning air.

George was staying at the same in as Olivia and Marcos. He didn't really sleep the night before because the song was frustrating him. He didn't think anyone else was there, he went out into the big garden to play and clear his mind, not seeing the girl on the bench behind him. He sat down in the grass and strummed his guitar, ll he had of the song so far. _"Sunrise doesn't last all morning... A cloudburst doesnt last all day. seems my love is up and has left you with no warning..._ _It's not_ _always going to be this..."_ He paused "Gay.. Gray. Bloody fuck." He mumbled to himself and then started playing around with chords.

Olivia recognized him, but she stayed quiet and kept to herself, but did giggle af hearing him curse. Hopefully it wasn't loud enough for him to hear. She didn't want to disrupt him and the possible genius song he was writing. She played it cool and continued to watch the butterfly.

After another 20 minutes or so George laid down on the ground and looked up at the sky. He started to smell that sweet flower scent from before. He laid his guitar down beside him and got up to look for the flower that had been emitting that amazing smell.

He stretched and looked around but froze when he saw this young woman with beautiful sunkissed skin and long dark hair. She had a little smile on her face and she waved at him. George had his arms awkwardly above his head and his legs were crossed. He wanted to wave back but he was so captured by her beauty and his mouth fell open and he just stumbled, looking like an idiot. She giggled a little louder and covered her mouth and walked over to him. Yes she was a fan, but she wasn't going crazy, Paul was her favorite. She didn't want to sound weird either... So she didn't say his name. She pretended she didn't know who he was. "Hello," She stood above him with her hands on her hips and just looked at the man laying on the ground. "Are you okay? Do you need a hand?" She walked around to where she could see him, and he wasn't upside down in her view; she held her hand out.

George reached out, looking into her brown eyes, taking her hand and hoping up. "Hello miss... I'm sorry about that... It's nice to meet you... My name is George." He figured she didnt know him since they were in India... Sure people here listened to the Beatles but probably not as hardcore as the states.

She looked and saw he was still holding her hand and she smiled. "I'm Olivia."

George smiled back sweetly. He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles as an apology. "I am deeply sorry that you saw that, Olivia. I'm usually a lot smoother." He saw a ring on her hand and he quickly let go, mumbling an oh shit to himself. He turned to pick his guitar up. She was the smell. She was the one that smelled so amazing. What he couldn't get enough of. She smelled like a flower that he desperately wanted in his garden because it was so magnificent but he couldn't have it and was now disappointed. He looked at his wrist and the counter was still going. Looking into her eyes he was already sure she was his soulmate even if he didn't know anything but her name.

"That was a nice song you were working on, George." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's a beautiful guitar as well..."

"Thank you miss." His accent was thick. Olivia, just wanting to make small talk started asking more questions.

"Where are you from?"

"England." He looked her over closely, she didn't look like she was Indian. "Where are you from?"

"Mexico." She made direct eye contact with him. "You're a long way from home. Why are you here?"

"I can say the same thing for you ma'am. I'm here visiting Maharishi and Ravi Shankar. Getting a break from my friends and this one bird... Shes a crazy girl," he shook his head at the thought of Pattie. "I wanted to write my own music... I come here often despite that I hate planes. Why are you here?"

"I am on my honeymoon here." She analyzed everything he said. there was a short pause of awkward silence since George didnt respond to her saying she was on her honeymoon. "Hey! You said you come here often? Could you show me and my husband some of your favorite places?"

George shrugged. "Well, by all means I would be quite prepared for that eventuality. I would love to chauffer such a pretty lass around."

She blushed dark and gave him her room number. "We will be having a lazy day in our room. Stop by whenever you're ready to show us around. It was nice meeting you. I'll see you later, yeah?"

George nodded. "Bye Olivia." He watched her as she walked back into her room, his heart pounding. She was the most magnificent woman he had ever met.


End file.
